Letters
by NeekSociety
Summary: A bittersweet telling of something that, in my mind, Prim would've done before she died.


**AN: This is not an everything-is-perfect short-story…no, it hurts a little. Stings. Even though I don't want it to, it does. But I think it might make you feel a little better about Prim's death. It helped me, showing her this way.**

 **I wrote this a long time ago. Maybe a year? I figured I'd post it as it is, with the original intentions. I might edit later.**

 **Disclaimer: All credit goes to Suzanne Collins –if it were in my hands, Primrose Everdeen would not be dead.**

I just don't understand. How they could do that to her. Prim. The little blonde girl who wasn't even fifteen yet, the blue-eyed girl that was and always will be my little duck. They just blew her up, just like that. I would never had the heart, even if I hadn't known Prim. And the fact that I knew her oh so well makes this harder.

I don't hide the tears. There's no one here to see them fall, except that old Buttercup in the corner, who looks as sad as I am. I'm at the lake, the place that Prim knew me to come to when my heart was heavy.

And when I step outside of the little concrete shack, I hear the sound of paper sliding beneath my foot. I look down, and my heart almost stops beating in my chest. I recognize the handwriting on the neat stack of letters. It was Prim's. With shaking fingers, I pick them up from the earth.

The first four are expected, addressed to me, Peeta, Gale, and Mom. The one below that is addressed to Buttercup, and I smile a bit at the thought she could even write to a cat, so that Buttercup could hang on, because God knows that cat loved her as much as I did. As much as I do.

It's the last one that makes my heart feel like it skipped a beat. It says, in neat little letters : _Daddy._

She wrote to Dad, probably for self-clearance, but still, she was hurting, and I never knew. I can't believe I never noticed it. I push that thought aside with much difficulty, reminding myself that she's with Dad right now.

I untie the blue ribbon, and I read the ink on it. It says, still in Prim's perfect scrawl, _Go ahead, Katniss, read them. I want you to._ I almost lose it at those words. I want to cry my heart out, but I don't seem to have any tears left, so I just make an odd choking sound here and there.

I open the letter on top, which has Peeta's name on it.

 _Peeta-_

 _If she hasn't chosen you yet, she will. Don't give up on her. You make her happier, whether you see it or not. She loves you, and even a blind man could see you love her too. Be good to her. Thanks, for the bread all those years ago –Katniss told me._

 _Love, Prim._

Prim was still herself when she wrote these, before she went into the arena to help, knowing that she would probably get killed. And just as observant and giddy as ever. Putting others before her. I smile, although some of it is sad.

I open the next letter.

 _Gale-_

 _Thanks for helping us out, especially when Katniss was gone. You did more than you realized. More good than you realized. Good luck, wherever you go, and still be a good friend to our Katniss, will you? Thanks._

 _Love, Prim_

That one makes me tear up a little more than I'd like. I fold the letter neatly and place it on a dry section of the floor, along with Peeta's letter.

I open the next one, bracing myself for the worst.

 _Mom-_

 _First off, I love you. Don't ever forget that. Stay strong for everyone, please don't snap again, it hurts us all, including you. Thank you for always being there for me when I had nightmares, and for just being there in general._

 _Lots of love, Prim_

Right after her name on that letter, she'd drawn a little heart. That's when I find I still have tears left. Even so, I force myself to read the next one, the one meant for Buttercup.

 _Buttercup-_

 _Just, thank you. Love ya bunches!_

 _-Prim_

I go ahead and read that one aloud, since Buttercup is here, and he recognizes the sound of Prim's name. I show him the paper, and he puts his paws on the place where she stamped his paw and her hand on the paper, before lying down on top of the paper.

Time for the next letter.

 _Daddy-_

 _You left when I was seven, and I expect to be seeing you soon now –it's not safe, where I'm headed. I kept your picture under my pillow sometimes, when it got too hard, as I'm sure you must know by now, because everyone assures me that you're watching us. I love you._

 _Love, Primrose (Prim)_

Of course. Prim never went by Prim before Dad passed. He called her Primrose, and called her that too, and sometimes Rosy if she was particularly bright. But she went by Prim after Dad left, and only after he left.

The last letter is mine, and I'm a little scared to open it, but I do anyway.

 _Katniss-_

 _Keep smilng. You've got Mom, and Gale, and Peeta. And Buttercup, too. He'll warm up to you. I don't want you, or anyone, to forget me, but I don't want the thought of me to bring you all to tears. I love all of you too much. Focus on the future, on what's ahead, and don't reflect on the past twenty-four-seven. But sometimes, it might do you a little good to remember the past. I really love you, you know._

 _Love, your little duck, Prim_

That's it. I lose it. I let loose any tears I still have, and I run away from the lake, letters in tow, every single one of them, leaving the door ajar a bit so Buttercup can get back out. I stop outside the woods, in the Meadow, and slump to the ground, head in my hand, on my knees.

I cry for what seems like forever, and I only stop when a hand touches my shoulder, and I know who it is before I even have to look up. It's the only person who would dare try to console me in a breakdown because they might walk away bloody, and that person is Peeta.

I look up, and he holds his arms out, and I don't hesitate to return the hug, I bury my face in his shoulder, and the fabric of his shirt becomes wet with my tears in just a few moments. He doesn't say anything and when we finally make eye contact, he's looking at me like he only hallway knows why I broke down. That he knows it has something to do with Prim. I hand him the letters with shaky hands, and he understands. I lose it again, and he wraps his arms tight around me once again.

I don't even try to move. I don't want to. I'm glad that there's someone here to comfort me, and that I care about that person. He kisses my forehead, and that's when Buttercup comes and rubs his head against my arm. He has his letter from Prim in his mouth. I pet him back for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," I say to Peeta, and a little bit to Buttercup, too. But only Peeta questions it.

"For what? You haven't done anything," He says.

"Feels like I did," I say, and when I think, I really don't think I did anything besides hurting his heart, but we're past that now. At this moment, which in truth is what I apologized for, I have done nothing to him.

"But you didn't," He says with a half smile, and I don't know why I burst into laughter, but I don't question it. Between Prim's letters, which I have to admit were kind of a pick-me-up, and this moment right here, I start to feel better than I have since Prim left.

We deliver the letters to the people they were intended for, and then we all place a thank-you note to her on the place where she is to be remembered, a place with a little pink rose and a carved stone reading Primrose Everdeen. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips, then hold them out briefly as we walk away from the grave.

 **AN: It seemed to move at such a slow pace, when I was writing this, and for me that's how I know it's too sad. I have to admit, I cried almost the whole way through writing this. I don't think it's a bad story, just kind of sad…but I'd like to know what you think.**


End file.
